


o my brother

by motheyes



Series: i wish this was canon (fix it fics) [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Alexis | Quackity Is Mexican Dream, Angst, Bad Brother Wilbur Soot, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt No Comfort, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, and then there's tommy!, he's dead., mexican dream my beloved. you deserve the world, why are all my fics borne from spite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motheyes/pseuds/motheyes
Summary: Tommy's eyes snap open, and almost immediately, he snaps them shut again. The... ceiling? sky? above him is a bright, blinding white; he rolls over, burying his head in his arms.  When he takes a second hesitant, peeping glance, it seems the floor matches."What the fuck," he whispers. His head hurts. His everything hurts, a dull and throbbing pain spread down his arms and chest and back. Where is he?"Ah, so you've finally decided to join us."(Or: Tommy meets Wilbur again in the afterlife.)
Relationships: (in an enemies way), Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Mexican Dream & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: i wish this was canon (fix it fics) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133021
Comments: 30
Kudos: 269
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	o my brother

**Author's Note:**

> usual disclaimer: this is about the characters from the roleplay on the smp, not about the actual people!! if i learn this violates boundaries it's getting yeeted.
> 
> title from "icarus" by the crane wives.
> 
> i feel like a lot of people forget wilbur was one of tommy's abusers.

Tommy's eyes snap open, and almost immediately, he snaps them shut again. The... ceiling? sky? above him is a bright, blinding white; he rolls over, burying his head in his arms. When he takes a second hesitant, peeping glance, it seems the floor matches.

"What the fuck," he whispers. His head hurts. His _everything_ hurts, a dull and throbbing pain spread down his arms and chest and back. Where is he?

"Ah, so you've finally decided to join us."

Tommy's gaze snaps up, and up, and up, and he squints against the overwhelming light until his vision adjusts and he can finally make out the silhouetted person standing in front of him.

It's Wilbur. Not _Ghostbur_ , either - the real, genuine Wilbur, ash-stained trenchcoat and dark beanie and darker bags under his eyes.

Tommy must look like an idiot with the way he's staring, eyes wide.

Wilbur doesn't miss a beat. "Schlatt owes me. Won our bet by a landslide." He grins, sharp and lopsided and achingly familiar. 

"Bet?" Tommy asks faintly, struggling to his feet. Wilbur does not extend a helping hand. "I - am I _dead_?"

Wilbur - _Wilbur, who Tommy hasn't seen in months, Wilbur, who is close enough to reach out and touch_ \- shrugs. "Welcome to the afterlife."

He turns on his heel, strolling back towards two other figures sitting against the ground, sharply contrasted against the white emptiness. Tommy stares after him, wide-eyed, before shaking his shock off and scurrying to catch up.

"Schlatt!" Wilbur yells, and one of the figures, the darker, less colorful one, raises his head. "I won, dickhead! Guess who's here!"

"Aw, fuck off, really?" And - there's no way that could be anyone but Schlatt, with the slight drawl to his American accent. Tommy figures he should've expected his presence. "Nah, didn't you say he was gonna die before February?"

They're close enough now that Tommy can make out the disappointment on ghost-Schlatt's face. He looks - awful, in the same way that the gaping hole in Wilbur's back looks awful. He's pale and sweaty, eyes unfocused.

He looks like he did at his death. Wilbur, too. 

Tommy's kinda glad there are no mirrors.

"No, I said before _June_ ," Wilbur says, coming to a halt. " _You_ said before February."

Schlatt huffs, a slimy businessman's smile on his face. "Don't think that's right, idiot."

Tommy watches their exchange, back and forth and back and forth, like a ping-pong ball match. He's still struggling through the haze of confusion and the lingering pain in his head. He's - he's dead, and he's with Wilbur, and Wilbur didn't even say _hello_.

"Ey, man." The voice comes from next to him, and Tommy looks down at the person sitting there, only to recoil. They're wearing a smiley-face mask, pale and off-white, and for a second, Tommy is _afraid_.

It's not Dream, though. There's a goatee scribbled under the smiley, and a beanie squashed over his head.

"Welcome, man," Mexican Dream says, patting the ground next to him.

"Hey," Tommy says back, a bit shakily. He sits, slowly, his legs threatening to give out beneath him.

Wilbur's started shouting. Tommy tenses. He doesn't know who to keep an eye on - Wilbur, yelling like he always did near the end, or Schlatt, smelling of alcohol, or Mexican Dream, whose mask is boring into Tommy's soul.

Finally, blessedly, Mexican Dream looks away. Tommy's still tense. It's still loud. 

"Don't worry about them, kiddo. They do this all the time. Give 'em a few minutes to cool down."

With that, Mexican Dream leans back, propped up on one hand. It's quiet for a few seconds - or, well, Mexican Dream and Tommy are quiet. Schlatt and Wilbur are still fighting.

(They were always fighting, weren't they. It made sense in life and it makes sense here in death, but Tommy's sitting right there, and he hasn't talked to Wilbur in months, and _Wilbur didn't even say hello_.)

Eventually, Tommy can't take it. He clears his throat. "It's, uh, it's nice to see you again," he offers, quietly.

Mexican Dream chuckles. "You too, man. Was worried about you, kiddo. Cruel world down there." His head lists to the side, and his voice takes on a dreamy, reminiscent tone, and he muses, "I've known that ever since that wonderful, terrible girl. You know, she was a bitch, but those legs, man..."

Tommy fake-gags, shoving at Mexican Dream's shoulder even as he laughs. "Keep your weird shit to yourself, big man."

Mexican Dream cackles, and for a second, Tommy almost feels like he's alive again, like there isn't an ever-present ache radiating from every bone in his body.

And then there's a crashing noise, and Tommy's head snaps up, and Wilbur and Schlatt are tusselling on the ground. He winces, averting his gaze.

"Did... uh, did Wilbur talk about me at all?"

Mexican Dream looks at Tommy again, and he's quiet for a moment that lasts far too long. 

"Sometimes," Mexican Dream says, voice carefully, uncharacteristically measured. "Don't wanna repeat much of it, man."

Tommy... doesn't know what he was expecting, honestly, but those words still make the burning in his gut and the pressure behind his eyes so much worse. He can guess. He can guess the content of Wilbur’s words about him, just based on the fact that he and Schlatt apparently _bet on when Tommy was going to die._

"Oh." That’s all he can say past the lump in his throat.

Across the void, Wilbur lets out a shout, head snapping back as Schlatt gets a good hit in. Tommy's right here - Wilbur's _little brother_ is right here, dead at the age of sixteen - and all Wilbur cares about is his old feuds. 

Tommy doesn’t know why it hurts so much _now._ He should be fine - it was okay when they were fighting for independence, because liberty is more important than some fifteen year old’s petty shit. It was okay when they were holed up in a ravine, because Wilbur had lost everything. Nevermind the fact that Tommy did, too.

Or maybe it wasn’t okay. He doesn’t know. Isn’t death supposed to bring clarity to your life? Tommy’s more confused than ever.

He brings his knees up to his chest, resting his head on them. 

Mexican Dream pats his shoulder, and silently keeps his hand there when Tommy starts to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! thanks for reading. while you're here, a comment or kudos would be incredibly helpful - it's not necessary, but feedback helps me a ton :)
> 
> if you enjoyed my writing, i have... so many dream smp works, and hopefully more to come. so many hot takes about the story in my skull... gotta get em out somehow.
> 
> thanks for reading!! i hope you have a nice day <3333


End file.
